


A Journey Deeper

by Barbedbeat



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Dreams, Friendship, Other, Trials, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbedbeat/pseuds/Barbedbeat
Summary: Riessene kindly lent me her exquisite chracter, the pale elf barbarian Nyie. So I took the chance to tailor a little story around him.(Warning: it contains a few depictions of violence as well as near-death)





	A Journey Deeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riessene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riessene/gifts).



Niye gasped, oxygen filling his starved lungs in erratic gulps. His body was wracked by shivers as the water’s frost gnawed at his skin, hands paddling furiously in a desperate attempt to keep afloat. “Help!”, he yelled. “Help me! Please...”, but his shouts dissolved into nothingness, drowned out by the churning sea of blackness that frothed all around him. He took one more, ravenous breath before they grabbed him. Onyx tendrils, thrashing underwater, wrapping around his ankles in a steely embrace.  
 He screamed again, writhing in panic as the searing claws of the abyss seized him, their weight crushing a muffled gurgle out of his throat.  
He was drowning.  
He snarled, eyes wide as he choked both in terror and darkness, his body a searing vessel of pain. Primal agony and rage swam through his mind in a flash of red.He screamed again, muscles bulging as he pulled with all his might against the otherworldly constraints, energy bleeding out of him with every passing heartbeat.  
“Shall I end it for you?”  
 The question echoed in his mind, cracking like thunder amidst the strangling nothingness.  
“Shall I end it for you?”  
Niye’s jaw clenched, head thrown back in one last act of defiance.  
“No”, he mouthed.  
Then, with one last wail, he let his form plummet into the void, surrendering at last to oblivion’s bitter kiss.

* * *

 

When Niye opened his eyes, he found himself knelt on the ground, back arched forward as he spat and gagged, strings of pitch-like goop dripping down his chin and splattering onto the earth below.  
When he’d finished, he dragged a deep, satiating sigh. He had no idea how he’d gotten out of the churning abyss. But there, out in the clean air and finally cleansed of its poison, he could feel the strength seeping back into him in warm, prickling waves. And in an instant, he was reborn.He pressed a hand on his knee and raised on his feet.  
All around him was the familiar tundra he’d spent so many days exploring as a youth, its snowy patches chasing the hardened soil in a race towards the horizon, where it melt with the sky above.  
His lips curled into a smile as he began walking towards the setting sun.  
A fresh breeze blew on his face, bringing him the honey scents of spring and wild berries, making his heart beat fast with joy.  
He was home. Home, at last.  
If he looked closely, he could see them appear in the distance, right behind the red pine grove. The village huts, all huddled together in a colorful bouquet of drapes and woven reeds, their smoking chimneys speaking of warm hearths and evenings spent swapping tales in front of the fire.  
The elf had stopped in his tracks, his mind lost in a sweet maze of memories when a sudden roll of thunder grumbled softly somewhere up above.  
A gust of gale swept the hair from his face and tugged at his cloak, blowing a puff of icy dust off the ground. He raised his eyes, creases of worry etched on his brow. The sky overhead had started to grey, dark clouds swelling in fierce ripples.  
When he lowered his gaze, the village had vanished from view, swallowed by the storm’s unstoppable rage. Niye’s fingers curled into fists as he watched the last speck of sunlight flicker, its reflection dancing against his irises, and die, choked out by the encroaching blackness.  
“Come closer, my child.”  
Niye winced, a gasp caught in his throat. The voice that had stood up against the whistling wind was one he’d heard countless times, one so heavy with memories and fondness it had made the fine hair on his neck stand on end.  
He wheeled around, heart pounding, and saw her.  
“Syivare”.  
She stood tall, her ethereal form hovering over the windswept ground, arms held open in beckoning.  
Niye began walking towards her, slowly at first, though he could feel his pace quicken with every step.  
When he reached her, he threw himself on his knees and grabbed the edge of her fur mantle, pressing it against his lips in a gesture of deep respect.  
He’d missed her. He’d missed her so much…  
The elder’s glimmering hand brushed against his cheek in a soothing caress and slid under his chin, gently pushing his head upwards for his gaze to meet hers.  
The wrinkles around her eyes betrayed her age, but the fire in them spoke of power and great wisdom.  
“You’re troubled”, she said, her silver braid swaying off her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side, pensive. “What is it you fear, child?”  
He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. How could he explain? How could he put it all- all the anguish, dread, and doubts that had been plaguing his soul for so long now?  
He opened his mouth to speak, closing it twice before uttering a hoarse “Nothing.”  
A sudden bolt of lightning cracked between them, burning his vision with scorching white.  
“Don’t you lie to me, Watcher.”  
Niye jolted back, every fiber on alert as Syivare’s voice broke into a beastly snarl, features churning and boiling out of control as her image warped into that of a monstrous werewolf.  
His hands flew onto the hilt of his sabres as the beast’s head swung in the air, adjusting its bones into the newly-transformed flesh. When it turned its maws towards him, nostrils dilated and jaws open in a blood-curdling howl, the warrior was ready. He rolled to the side as the wolf’s paws thumped on the ground, teeth mauling the air where he’d stood a heartbeat ago, and launched his blades forth, carving two long, parallel gashes into the animal’s side.  
A spurt of crimson dripped down its coat and puddled on the earth below, staining it pink.  
The beast wailed, body thrashing around in fury, trying to shake away the blinding jolts of agony that ate through its muscles. Chest heaving with strain, it took a moment to steady itself before slowly turning towards Niye, a growl rumbling into its throat. In an instant, their eyes locked, flickering like embers in the night as they began circling each other in a predatory staredown.  
When the wolf attacked, Niye could do nothing to stop its fury. A deafening roar exploded in his ears as the monster’s claws come crashing down on him, turning his world into a whirling, melting spiral. The elf’s back hit the ground with enough force to steal all the air from his lungs, sending warm tendrils of ache shooting down his spine.  
He gasped, fear seizing his body as he noticed beast’s maws hanging inches from his form.

His legs kicked the ground in an attempt to flee, but the monster was faster. Its fangs hissed sickeningly against his skin as they tore their way through the flesh, sinking deep within his ribcage. Niye screamed and kicked in a futile attempt to escape the pain, only for the torture to intensify with his every move.  
Panic wrenched his mind as the realization hit him. He was going to die.  
 And yet, there, below layer upon layer of fear and suffering, he could feel it. Something had stirred deep inside him, bubbling up from his core and rushing, beating, into his veins. It was something furious, majestic and defiant, that turned his screams into howls and his anguish into frenzy.  When the wolf shoved his bloody grin inches from his face, his terror had melted away like ice in the sun. “Shall I end it for--” The beast’s question broke, interrupted, into an inhuman screech as Niye’s hands grabbed its jaws and-- pulled-- with all their might. “NO”, he roared. With a single, final heave, he pried the wolf’s skull bones apart, splitting his head wide open. Then, without a sound, the beast’s unmoving carcass slid out his grasp and collapsed on the ground, where it vanished in a cloud of translucent smoke.  
Niye fell on his knees, muscles shaking with fatigue, puffs of vapor blowing out of his nostrils with every breath. “No”, he repeated, fingers pressed on his mangled chest.  
A joyful, hearty laugh erupted from behind his back. “You are strong, young warrior.” Syivare’s knotty hand squeezed his shoulder, sending a soothing stream of magic to heal his wounds. “And brave. Very brave indeed.” The grip around his collarbone tightened, and the woman’s cane swung in front of him, pointing at the snowdrops that had started to sprout before his eyes. The flowers stretched into existence one by one, their bell-shaped petals blossoming in a circle around a spot of land, their stems swaying lightly in the wind. “But will you be brave enough…” A clot of light appeared amidst the circle, swirling and glowing with arcane energy. “... to tell him the truth?”  
Niye blinked, suddenly insecure. “What do you mean?”, he asked, turning his head towards his grandma. Before he could finish his question, though, she’d already vanished, leaving nothing behind but the frozen tundra and the whisper of the storm behind.  
He swallowed, gaze slowly setting upon the buzzing strands of energy that spun and whirled a mere foot away from his form. He bit his lip and stood up, pausing to acknowledge what had to be done. Then, mustering all his courage, he took a deep breath and reached out.  
Cold trails of essence enveloped his mind, infusing his vision with the purple haze of the beyond. At its touch, he could feel his heart flutter with recognition, launching his pulse into a mad race. There, at the very end of his fingertips, was a soul. Its figure slender, its bearing elegant, its chiseled features glimmering pale under the starless sky. They all concurred to send a shiver down his spine and fill his chest with throbbing sparks. He stepped forward, locking eyes with it, his amber melting in the spirit’s ethereal blue.  
“Aloth”, he muttered. In a seemingly involuntary gesture his hand shot up, trembling, fingers hovering over the figure’s cheek. And yet, as soon as the cold jolts of its essence began prickling against his palm, Niye froze. When the words- those three words- had come bubbling up his throat, they’d gotten stuck amidst his parted lips, never to be pronounced nor heard.  
With a cautious movement he retrieved his arm, letting it dangle by his side, defeated. “I’m sorry”, he murmured, head hanging low on his chest as the apparition cracked and flaked, scattering in the wind with a sad wail.

Before he could finish wiping the tears from his eyes, he found himself splayed on the ground, shoved down by a reckless blow to the kidneys. He wheeled around, sword drawn, only for his gaze to meet his own. The spectral image that stood before him was his body’s perfect copy, identical in all, save for the ghostly gleam that radiated from it.  “What is it, Niye boy?” The spectre moved forth, hovering through Niye’s blade totally unscathed. “Too scared to face your feelings? Or maybe...”, it cooed, towering over him, a sudden flash of orange blazing behind its eyes, “is it your very soul you’re afraid to confront?”  
With an unearthly cackle it jolted towards him, warping and twisting into a stream of rippling, ghastly smoke, and started prying his way between his jaws.  
Niye screamed, grappling with the air as he struggled to stop the spirit from possessing him. But his yells soon turned into gurgles, and he began to choke, eyes rolled back in their sockets while his perception of self warped, wrestled back through the centuries into something he didn’t recognize, but that was, undoubtedly, his.  
He felt his nostrils wrinkle when the stench of charred flesh invaded his lungs, disgust mitigated by habit. He stood tall, inspecting the stakes that burned below with icy contempt. Amidst the flames, hooded figures writhed in pain, their howls piercing the night air with horrifying despair. “Well done, Inquisitor.” Thaos’ hand perched on his shoulder, his angular profile silhouetted against the orange glint of the pyre. He was young then, and very handsome. “Your service won’t be forgotten.” Niye felt his knees bend, head bent low in blind reverence. When he spoke, he did it in a different voice. The voice of a woman. “I have sworn by the Gods, Grandmaster. I merely did what needed to be done.” A slender finger poked his chin, pushing it upwards. “You did the Gods’ work, Inquisitor. Never allow doubt to taint the glory of your soul.”  
Niye wriggled in horror as he felt a smile sprout on his face and the warm caress of Thaos’ lips on his forehead. Searing flashes of memory overcame his mind, ripe with fear and deceit, of  tribunal halls slathered in blood and decked with torture devices. “No,” he roared, “I am not her! I am not her!! I am not…” He saw her palms, now his own, slick with crimson, the screams of the tortured still ringing in his skull, “... a murderer, I’m not--! I’m better than this! _I’m better than this, I swear!!_ ” He yelled and yelled, till the memories became darkness, and he was himself again, alone with his anguished rage. “Watcher?” A voice chimed through the obscurity, vibrant, filling his ears with its fresh sharpness.  “Watcher...? Oh please, _please_ answer me...” This time the words were followed by something else: a sigh, a hiss and, finally, the unmistakable sound of a slap.  
  
Niye sucked in a sharp breath as he came by, eyes wide open, a dull pain throbbing across his left cheek. With a jolt he sat up, chest heaving wildly, a snarl twisting his features. He had no idea where he was, and the edge of his mind were still lingering in a state of wary confusion. “Niye? Niye, is that you?” The sound of his own name had him snap around, every fiber on alert. “Nye, are y-- Ow!! _Simmer doon, ye dunderheed: it’s jist me, can’t ye bloody see?!_ ”  
Another slap hit him square in the face, but stronger, and sobering this time. He gasped in shock as the last strands of delirium cleared from his consciousness, letting the familiar contours of his surroundings bleed in. As soon as he’d gathered himself, he noticed two things.  
The first was that he was shaking all over. The second, that he was still clutching someone’s arm with a grip tight enough to shatter rocks. And that someone was...  
“Aloth!” He exclaimed, immediately releasing his grasp.  
 “Niye! Ah, Berath’s Wheel, for a moment I feared your Awakening had gotten the best of you and...” The mage brought a hand on his chest and drew a long sigh of relief. “I’m just… It’s good to see you’ve regained your faculties, Watcher.”  
Niye brushed a tuft of damp hair away from his forehead and swallowed loudly. His mouth was awfully dry, and his stomach suddenly felt full of butterflies. “What… what happened?”, he croaked, looking around in search of some water. But before he could do as much as turn his head, a full glass had been pushed right into his palm by his companion’s slender fingers. “Well,” Aloth began, hands clasped behind his back, a veil of sadness darkening his gaze. “...after our escape from Defiance Bay, you started showing the signs of a deep malaise, if I dare say so myself. We had barely crossed the Valewood when you collapsed to the ground, utterly unconscious. We did… we did everything in our power, but we couldn’t seem to wake you up in any way.” He bit his lip briefly, lines of worry crawling on his brow. “And so we carried you all the way back to Caed Nua, where you’ve been lying in your bed, raving and thrashing around in the throes of a vision for the best part of two days.” He let out a dry, humourless chuckle before cocking his head, ebony locks drooping off his shoulder. “We suspect your last encounter with Thaos is to blame.”  
The glamfellen nodded pensively, drying his burning lips with the back of his wrist. In the crisp sunlight that entered from the window, Niye had begun to notice the dark circles under the wizard’s eyes, and how tautly the skin clung to his ashen cheekbones “Aloth?” Niye began, an eyebrow shooting up inquisitively, “Why do I have the feeling you’ve been keeping watch over me for the last 54 hours straight? ” Aloth brought a hand to cover his mouth and coughed a little, uneasy cough, the tips of his ears suddenly bright red. “A- at any rate,” he stammered, slipping towards the fireplace, where a kettle sat quietly upon magical embers.  
“You’ve been running quite a fever these days, amongst the other things. So I… I made you this. Here, taste, if you’d like.” Niye observed him as he poured a generous dose of steaming liquid into a mug and offered it to him in a single, fluid gesture. “Oh? What is it?” The pale elf wrapped his fingers around the warm tankard and took a deep sniff. It smelled amazing.  
“Springberry tea”, the mage replied, a tired smile bending his lips upwards. “Alarmingly simple to prepare, but very effective in soothing the symptoms of those soul-related ailments that seem to _pester_ the likes of us.”  Niye grunted a soft “hmm“ in approval and took a sip. The brew was sweet and honey, with a fragrant cardamom aftertaste. A few gulps later, he was already feeling better. The shivers had calmed, and the burning unrest that gnawed at his bones had started to hush as well. “Oh wow”, he said, sighing with relief, “this is amazing. Thank you, old pal: I appreciate it.”  
Aloth smiled again, but genuinely this time. “Glad to be of help. And now that you’re finally up and functioning...” He straightened his robes and started towards the door. “... I think I’ll go share the good news with the others.” He put his hand on the knob and turned around. “Oh, and Niye?” He stopped for an instant, as if weighing his words. “I know that- once you’ll have recovered, of course- you’ll want to head to Twin Elms, to try and wrap this whole misadventure up. Well...” The wizard bit his lip in a bout of hesitation. “Shall you wish me to, I...” He bowed his head and placed a hand on his chest, right above his heart. “I will be honored to stand by your side when you’ll finally face Thaos.” And with that he left, the echo of his steps fading into silence along  the tranquil halls of Brighthollow.  
Niye hadn’t said anything. He’d been too frozen to. Aloth’s last words had sent a huge, buzzing shiver down his spine, and now there he was, sat upright on his bed, white knuckles clutching the mug, a spikey knot of emotion stuck down his throat. It took him a few seconds to regain his mobility-- and his breath. Then, as soon as his muscles began responding again, he gingerly put the tea to rest on the nightstand and took his spinning head in his hands. His cheeks were hot and flushed-- but not with fever this time. It was simply that, for an instant, he’d felt something that had been denied to him for a long time.  
Happiness.  
He drew a shaky breath and lay back down, eyes glued to the ceiling, a big, stupid smile on his face.  
His heart had been fluttering like crazy, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling to swell in his stomach. And that, paired with the soothing effect of Aloth’s potion, had infused him with a sense of serenity and intimate quiet.  
He rolled to his side, stretching the malaise out of his bones, savouring the renewed peace that had settled in his mind.  
And, even if he’d probably never find the courage to open up about his feelings- he pondered, allowing his eyelids to roll shut and his mind to drift towards the calm embrace of rest- it was good to know that, no matter what cruel tricks the Gods had in store for him, he’d always be by his side. He sighed again.  
Yes. It was really good to have him.    
  
It was good to have Aloth.


End file.
